


That's Not How Cold Medicine Works, Crowley

by winterspirit13



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Common Cold, Fever, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sick Crowley (Good Omens), Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt, welcome back to me projecting some feelings on crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 15:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20623646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterspirit13/pseuds/winterspirit13
Summary: cpaperheart asked: hi! whump prompt: crowley has a cold and takes cough medicine, but the medicine makes them extremely drowsy. he's desperately trying to stay awake but his eyelids keep drooping and eventually they just pass out (i saw this and just wanted to see in your writing)Crowley really doesn't miss his (date?) lunch with Aziraphale, even if he's come down with a nasty cold. He decides to do things the human way, and get some cold medicine. Unfortunately, he's a gay disaster and does not gather any information about the proper dosage.





	That's Not How Cold Medicine Works, Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> Before reading this, please know that one time I wrote Crowley as "Croughly" on accident. That's all.

It wasn’t a habit of his to miss meeting with Aziraphale. Fashionably late, sure, but if Crowley could help it, he would never miss seeing his angel. After all, their Arrangement had only given them the excuse to see each other so often.

Or rather, Aziraphale’s fear had only let them meet up so many times. And Crowley wouldn’t let himself say just how much he treasured each moment they were allowed. The point being that if Aziraphale asked, Crowley would be there. That’s just the way that things worked.

It didn’t matter what was happening with himself, he told himself. He made a blessed date and he would rather discorporate then blow it off.

Crowley rather felt like discorporating, actually. His head was pounding, skin feeling all too tight over his forehead, and it wouldn’t go away no matter how he massaged his temples. His nose was red and raw, and he was rather bored with constantly sniffling. That, and the feverish chills which had begun to appear, making him slower than usual, and leaving him feeling utterly disorientated and miserable.Still, he pushed away the thought of skipping lunch with Aziraphale. He had seemed so excited about it after all, and Crowley could practically hear him making that little noise of disappointment before insisting that no, really, it was alright.

Flinging himself impossibly further into his couch (which hadn’t existed a few days ago) Crowley let out a sigh. Of course, the blessed angel would insist that he do something like _rest _instead of going out on a picnic with him. If it wasn’t for that, he could have simply asked Aziraphale to miracle away the illness. He wouldn’t be able to do it his damn self because, well… just that. Demon. He couldn’t ever heal anything the way he used to.

He snapped his thoughts away from that particular topic. Best not to dwell.

Instead, he turned on his mobile, deciding to look up what humans did these days to cure their rather weak vessels of a minor illness. The light of the screen made his head ache further, and he had to blink to keep his eyes from watering.

Quickly, he stumbled onto an advertisement for cold medicine. Briefly reading through the instructions and effects, he decided that he would leave early and pick some up on his way.

…Which would mean leaving now, he realized, seeing the time. With less than minimal effort, he heaved himself off of the rather comfortable couch, steadying himself as the blood rushed back to his head, causing his vision to swim momentarily before it righted himself.

With a snap, he miracled himself dressed and styled, and he picked up his glasses on the way outside, setting them on his face. At least it provided a brief respite for his headache; his eyes were already sensitive enough.

It didn’t take long to drop by a corner store, especially with Crowley’s driving. He stared at the different choices before shrugging, grabbing some liquid cough medicine, and sauntering to the counter to pay. (He never really had money on him, he just miracled it available whenever he needed to pay for something. And if it caused any inflation- well, hell, that was just his job as a demon.)

After buying the pinkish liquid and glaring at the poor cashier who tried to engage in small talk, Crowley found himself sitting in the Bentley, starring at the bottle. He cracked open the seal, opened the bottle, and took a few sips. Nothing happening. It tasted gross.

He took another long sip, before deciding that if he drank any more, he just might feel worse from the taste of it alone. With a wave of his hand, the bottle disappeared, erasing any evidence of it being there in the first place. Just to be sure, Crowley rolled down the windows of his car, so not even the scent of the medicine would be left.

He checked his mobile and found he needed to meet Aziraphale in about ten minutes. Traffic said it would take him fifteen to get to the park – which, naturally meant that he would be there a few minutes early, at least.

He drove quickly, an odd buzzing feeling slowly taking over the pain in his temples. Crowley’s expression relaxed – he didn’t hurt so much, so maybe the medicine had done something after all.

He found a place to park, which was rather lucky, although most people tended to avoid parking in illegal spots. Crowley, however, couldn’t be bothered and had a bit more sway with the universe than the common Londoner.

Slamming the door with a wince, Crowley got out. He scanned the area – it was a rather quiet park Aziraphale had chosen, and not one they’d been to before. There were still people, but not as many. It was private enough to be comfortable, without really being secluded from the public.

A hill sloped gently up, and on top of a plaid picnic blanket sat Aziraphale. Crowley smiled, just the briefest upturn of his lips, and raised a hand in a wave. Seeing him, Aziraphale immediately perked up, and Crowley could spot the (adorable) wiggle the angel tended to do whenever he was excited about something.

Crowley strolled easily to him, noticing step by step that he was feeling better. He could breathe easier, coughs no longer clawed at his throat, and the fever that had started that morning was nowhere to be felt.

Maybe he’d gotten away with it.

“So, what’ve you got here?” Crowley asks pleasantly, gesturing to the food Aziraphale had carefully laid out. He took a seat next to his angel, trying to will away the bit of dizziness his change in altitude had caused. He leaned back, resting his weight on his arms.

“I found a bakery that smelled simply _divine_,” Aziraphale explained excitedly, “And I couldn’t choose between the pastries so you absolutely must help me finish them, dear. Oh! And they had these cute miniature sandwiches so I got those as well!”

Crowley snorted but agreed. He never cared much for eating, but he didn’t mind sampling things, especially if it would make Aziraphale smile (which it often did, so Crowley found himself trying more and more lately). Today he felt even less likely to want to eat, but Aziraphale looked so _excited, _he couldn’t possibly refuse.

He nibbled at a sandwich, sliced neatly into a square smaller than his palm, and found his stomach turning uncomfortably as he swallowed.

“Are you alright there, my dear boy?” Crowley blinked, startled.

“Uh,” he said intelligently.

Aziraphale straightened his coat. “It’s just well, you look a bit pale,” he said softly, a touch of a worried tone creeping its way in to Aziraphale’s (quite literally) angelic voice.

Crowley nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, of course!” he assured quickly. “Really, angel, I’m alright.” Aziraphale stared for a moment longer, scanning the demon, but didn’t seem to find any reason to press, and for that, Crowley was grateful. The whole point of the stupid medicine he had to drink was so that he _wouldn’t _have to worry Aziraphale.

He didn’t need Crowley being any more difficult to deal with. Really, he’d already gotten the angel into an unbelievable amount of it as it was.

Thankfully, their conversation drifted slowly back into more relaxed topics. Crowley was enamored by the sight of Aziraphale in moments like this. His eyes shone in the afternoon sun, his face was lit warmly, and his expression shifted from excitement as he explained the plot of a recent book he had red to delight at the food he was eating.

He felt himself relax, slightly sleepy, even. Except, no, he was actually beginning to feel very tired. Crowley was doing his best, but he could barely keep up with the explanation of metaphors the book used… what was the book’s name, anyway?

His body felt like lead, his eyes begging to close. He hadn’t felt this way before – not even when he had stopped time itself – and he should really be concerned, but he didn’t even have the energy for that.

Somewhere, less than a foot away from him, Aziraphale finished his last bite, daintily wiping off the crumbs from his face with a satisfied hum. “That was just _delicious_,” he praised. “Now, dear, what would you think of a stroll around the park?”

Vaguely, Crowley was aware he’d been asked a question. He heard Aziraphale’s voice, the words he said, he just… he didn’t know what he had asked. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t figure out what it meant. Something had to be very wrong.

But he had to answer. Crowley couldn’t let Aziraphale see how out of it he was, couldn’t ruin this lunch. Keeping his expression as neutral as possible, he nodded. Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley had to hold in a sigh of relief.

Then the angel did something odd. He got up, began walking. Where was he going? Crowley felt a flash of nervousness. He gathered all of the energy he could muster and pushed himself up.

Oh.

Oh, no.

That was a bad idea.

His head spun, and he staggered to keep balance. The dizziness wouldn’t go away, it was only getting worse.

Crowley took a step forward, and his legs buckled. He felt himself sink to his knees, and then somehow, he was on the ground completely. He was so tired. The world wouldn’t stop moving, and his stomach was twisting uncomfortably, and he just wanted Crowley to sleep.

“Crowley! Crowley!” Someone was shouting his name, as if now was not the best time for a nap.

Exhaustion was taking over. “Sorry,” he murmured, and then, finally, let himself fall into sleep.

* * *

Crowley woke up in the bookshop. He was on Aziraphale’s couch, his head hurt, his nose felt stuffed, and there was a definite feverish heat coursing through his body. “Zira?” Crowley winced. Even to his own ears, he sounded miserable.

The shop felt strangely empty of the angel as Crowley looked around, although that wasn’t going to last long. Just as Crowley had resigned himself to wait until Aziraphale had come back to find out what was going on (and possibly sleep some more), the door to the bookshop opened rather loudly.

Aziraphale looked _pissed_.

His brow was wrinkled and his eyes shone with anger as he clenched his jaw tightly. A Principality in this state wasn’t to be messed with, and Crowley felt an instinctual shiver of fear run down his spine.

This appearance was only slightly less menacing since he was carrying what looked to be several tissue boxes (extra soft with lotion), cough drops, and a thermometer.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, voice dangerously calm. The demon gulped. “What the hell do you think you were doing? You just… you just passed out! If I hadn’t been there, you would have most certainly discorporate! And from an overdose on _cold medicine _of all things, Crowley!”

Ah. So, thinking back on it, in films and such they only took a spoonful of the stuff. He might have possibly misjudged how much was necessary. “Crowley, what were you _thinking_?” Aziraphale set down his supplies to kneel next to the couch, voice gentler.

“Sorry, angel,” Crowley rasped. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think-” Crowley broke off into a cough, and Aziraphale’s expression softened. “…think it would do that. I just thought I’d feel better, and we could – could have lunch.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Dear, I just wish you would have told me you weren’t feeling well. I could have helped.” Crowley shrugged, refusing to meet eye contact with the angel. That was exactly why he didn’t say anything.

Aziraphale’s hand brushed against Crowley’s softly at first before settling firmly onto his own. Crowley blinked up at him. “Whu-“

“You must stop thinking like that, my dear boy. I can assure you, you are more important to me than you’re giving yourself credit for.” Crowley gulps. The blessed angel could read him all too well, especially when he didn’t get to hide behind his sunglasses.

“Ngk. You’re just. You come first, angel,” he admits softly. Hopefully, Aziraphale would pass his flushed face off as just his illness.

Aziraphale seemed to think about this for a few moments, Crowley watched as the angel’s eyebrows scrunched, as he was trying very hard to find the right words that would make him understand without pushing past any boundaries. “Just… I want you to know that it’s not… Well, one-sided that is.” He cleared his throat, looking down.

Crowley wanted to ask, to prod at what exactly the angel meant by that, but right then, more than that, he wanted also to fall back asleep. His eyes were getting droopy, and Aziraphale noticed. “Sleep, Crowley. You need it.”

He would have to question Aziraphale later. After all, if his angel asked for something, he complied.

That’s just how things worked.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this prompt for so long!! Sorry y'all, life happened. A nasty bout of depression, finally starting hrt, and my birthday just teamed up and gave me other things to focus on. But I'm back now! And I will be writing more! I'm moving in about a week, so it might not be as frequent, but I'll do my best!
> 
> I may be posting this at 2am, but if you're reading this late, please join Crowley in having a nice sleep. It's what he would want! Sleep is good! 
> 
> Anyways, my head hurts so I'm just going to leave this here. Please feel free to give kudos if you liked it, and comment! I read them all and love every single one of you who does that adjfkal. If you have any request, my writing tumblr is @readingwritingcrying so feel free and shoot me an ask!


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